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“Alexander has done a great job of ruining my life for the last thirty-four years,” Ezra says, his voice hard. “I won’t be letting him do that with you.”

I frown. “And your mother? What if he disapproves? Will she suffer?”

“I…” There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, and I know he’s considered it. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe…maybe we could work together on her case,” I offer. “Maybe we can find something you overlooked.”

His eyes search mine for several seconds, softening. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would. I hate that he uses her against you.”

Another long moment passes with him studying me, and I’m half-desperate to know what he’s thinking. After a long while, a small smile forms on his face, and he gives me a slow nod. “I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry I was weird today,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “We’re going to have weird days. It’s a weird situation we’re in.”

“It is,” I agree.

He pushes up out of his seat, circling my desk in a predatory way until he’s turning my chair toward him, resting his hands on the arms on either side of me. “Worth it though,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He dips his head, and I push up to meet him, closing my eyes at the feel of his mouth against mine. It’s crazy that in a matter of weeks, I seem to have lost all will to resist this. Truthfully, after the strange melancholy I’ve been in for the last few hours, Ezra’s easy kisses and warm touch are a welcome distraction.

“Stand up,” he bids softly. “I want to try something.”

I let him coax me out of my chair with strong hands at my waist, not even pretending to protest when he turns me andpushes me back against my desk. His palms shove at the hem of my skirt, pushing it higher until they can cup the back of my thighs as he urges me to sit on top of the desk.

“I have been thinking about you on this desk since the last time I had you here,” he admits.

“You were entirely too cocky,” I snort.

I feel his smile against my throat, where he’s buried his face, his hands teasing the lace-covered edges of my thigh-highs. “I just knew what I wanted.”

“You…” I bite my lip, my lashes fluttering when I feel his fingertips teasing the silky material of my underwear at my hips. “You said I was yours.”

His lips trail kisses up my neck, lingering below my jaw. “Aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Because I want you to be,” he confesses, his warm breath puffing against my ear before his mouth traces along my jaw. “I think I did even then.”

“Ezra,” I manage shakily.

“Do you remember what I said about these skirts you wear?” He’s inching the fabric of said skirt up higher now, cool air licking at my thighs with every revealed bit of skin. “Do you remember what I said they made me want to do to you?”

“I remember,” I whimper, actuallywhimper.

“Do you want that?” He kisses the corner of my mouth gently, speaking directly against my lips. “Tell me what you want.”

There’s still thattinysliver of resistance, a small streak of stubborn defiance toward giving in to him, but I tamp it down. I’ve realized in the last few weeks that giving in to Ezra is not a concession. It’s a revelation.

“I want you,” I tell him, because it’s the truth, and I’m long past tired of pretending it isn’t. “Just like you said.”

He grins against my mouth. “Here? Right here?”